Lie to Me
by boldlikeblack
Summary: Follows 'Lies My Mother Told Me'.  Kurt's happily ever after is perfect.  -Contains a few 'eff bombs, smutty sitches and minor spoilers for 'The Substitute'-
1. Lie to Me

**Disclaimer: It's really not mine, no matter how far in advance I supported PArtie friendship and BArtie shippage.**

**A/N: Oh torment, thy name is Glee. Case in point, tonight's ep 'The Substitute'. (!SPOILERS!) From 'Love is just around the corner' (unsubtle cafeteria walkby) to 'I'll kill you' in under an hour. Why must the man in charge do these things to me? But I digress. This follows 'Lies My Mother Told Me' and is rated for mature language (Dave's got a bit of a filthy effing mouth) and smutty situations (but not '**_**The**_** Situation' because fake tans are so no-thank-you). Review and let me know what you think. There's only one more to go in the 'Lie' Mini-verse.**

**Also, Kurtofsky shippers, check out Poshcat's 'Karofsky Takes It Back'. You won't be disappointed. (Pssst: It's on my favourites list)**

**Cheers - B**

**BBB**

Kurt smiles brilliantly as Lauren Zises snaps a second photo of him and Blaine on the prop swing. He isn't sure that 'Gone with the Wind' is the best choice for a junior prom theme, but he isn't going to complain because Blaine looks absolutely adorable in his Clark Gable-esque tux. It's also the perfect excuse for Kurt to wear his completely lux forest green velvet D&G dinner jacket. It's completely dramatic and so very Scarlett O'Hara.

He's never been happier in his life than he is at this moment, sitting on the swing with his head on Blaine's shoulder. He hadn't thought it was possible to be happier than when he'd ushered Blaine into the Hummel/Hudson house earlier that evening and let the dark haired boy pin a divine circus rose corsage to his coat, or happier than when Blaine had held the door of classic Rolls Royce he'd rented open for Kurt to get in, or happier than he was when they'd kissed just outside the McKinley High gym before they'd entered the prom, but he is. He is deliciously, deliriously happy and, to misquote a very wise green girl, nothing is ever going to bring him down.

Kurt looks perfect. Blaine looks perfect. They are two beautiful boys who are beautiful together, having a perfect night. Honestly, does really it matter if Blaine's lips are too soft and that he rarely kisses Kurt hard enough for Kurt to really feel it? What does it matter if his hands feel exactly the same as Kurt's own when Kurt laces their fingers together? And really, it doesn't bother Kurt that Blaine has never once made Kurt's foot pop in all the months they've been a couple. Together they're a fairy tale come to life and it's perfect.

There are absolutely no problems. They really _are_ perfect together.

Blaine is very thoughtful and he's done his very best to give Kurt a prom night that belongs in She's All That or Pretty in Pink. Blaine is kind, sweet and generous. He's everything a boyfriend should be, but Kurt can't suppress the niggling feeling that there should be...more...to their relationship than perfection.

Quinn and Sam have their lovers' spats, the utility closet in west wing of the third floor is useless to janitors because Mercedes and Craig are always using it to make out in, Puck and Santana purposefully frag each other over X-Box and then have presumably mentally scarring make-up chat sex over X-Box Live, Artie and Brittany solve their issues with rock-paper-scissors, Rachel and Finn are still nauseatingly twitterpated and, hell, even Mike and Tina have little arguments over their dance steps from time to time. Kurt and Blaine don't have anything like that. No little quirks or inconsistancies. They're perfect.

They have the same taste in music. They like the same activities. They like the same movies. The one time Kurt suggested that they watch one of Finn's shoot-em up action DVDs, all Kurt got was a kiss on the cheek and an 'Anything you want, Sweetheart.'

Blaine's a perfect gentleman too. That should probably be commended, but Kurt finds it more irritating than anything. It took a whole month before Blaine would kiss him on the lips and even now, Blaine won't do more than run his elegant fingers just under the hem of Kurt's t-shirt. Kurt doesn't even need a 'mailman' because he's never gotten worked up enough to need one. All Kurt wants...dear Gaga he wants...is for Blaine to push him on his back and kiss him until he sees stars. He wants grabbing hands and bruised lips and sweaty naked flesh pressed together, skin to skin.

It's not even about sex, really, because Kurt is nowhere near ready for that; it's about feeling wanted. And he just doesn't feel it, Blaine doesn't do anything to make him feel it, and Kurt doesn't feel like he can say anything about it because it would cause a fight and they don't fight because they're _perfect_.

Kurt keeps his smile fixed on his face as Blaine leads him out on the floor for their first dance, allowing the music to keep his thoughts from spinning out of control. He lets Blaine lead, because it's easier to follow. He spends two slowish-songs in Blaine's arms before he suggests punch. Then 'Teenage Dream' starts to play and Kurt lets Blaine pull him back toward the centre of the dance floor, because it's _their song_ and Blaine insists that they absolutely have to dance to _their song_ at prom. The smile on Blaine's face brings Kurt back to the day they met and he lets himself get lost in the moment.

The moment comes to a screeching halt when Blaine spins Kurt out on one arm and Kurt's fingers slip out of his grasp. Kurt loses his footing and slams palms first into the back of another dancer. A jock, he surmises, if the well defined back muscles under his flat hands are any indication. "I'm so sorry," he says, righting himself and straightening his jacket. "My date's very enthusiastic," Kurt explains, picking a bit of lint off his trousers.

"You oughta be more careful," the jock rumbles. "You could get hurt."

Kurt's skin prickles into goosebumps against his Egyptian cotton shirt and his heart starts pumping faster. It's infinitely infuriating that even after months of being left alone, ignored even, by Dave Karofsky, the sound of his voice still has Kurt waiting for a fight to start. He makes sure his 'bitch face' is firmly in place before he looks up, locking eyes with Karofsky. "I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing," Kurt says haughtily.

He doesn't expect Karofsky to take it like a blow, but the hockey player reacts like he's been slapped. "Whatever, Hummel," he says, walking away.

Kurt's not exactly sure why he follows Karofsky into the crowd, yanking at the taller boy's elbow to get his attention. "What's the matter with you?" Kurt asks, more out of curiosity than anything.

"Nothing, now leave me alone," Karofsky replies, pulling his elbow out of Kurt's grip. Before Kurt can come up with a response, Karofsky has disappeared into the crowd. Kurt returns to Blaine, annoyed and nearly bites his boyfriend's head off when Blaine asks if Karofsky has been bothering him again.

Kurt spends the rest of the night looking out of the corner of his eye for Karofsky's oversize silhouette. It's like a tick in his head. He's practically consumed by the _need_ to know what the hell is going on with Karofsky. He _needs_ to know why the jock hasn't even spoken to him once since Kurt confronted him in the hall the day Kurt got his concussion. He _needs_ to know where the hell that boy has been hiding since fall semester. And Kurt wants to know if Karofsky is any closer to coming out of the closet. He doesn't really even care, but he simply _has_ to know.

Kurt finally spots his quarry when he and Blaine are taking a breather at one of the tables with the majority of the glee club. Karofsky is leaning against the wall, near one of the doors that exits into the school and he looks awful. His blue shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and his jacket has disappeared. He's wearing this unsettling glazed look on his face and Kurt wants to shake him when he spots the telltale silver of the flask Karofsky is carrying in his left hand.

Kurt excuses himself when Karofsky slips out the door. Blaine barely notices, engrossed in his habitual Cher vs. Barbara debate with Rachel. Kurt exits into the school in time to see Karofsky stumble around a corner. Sighing to himself, Kurt follows at a reasonable distance.

After a few twists and turns, Karofsky's destination becomes very apparent to Kurt. He swears and slows his pace, feeling unsure of what exactly he's doing following Karofsky through the school to the very last place in the world Kurt wants to go. Kurt should go back to the gym and the prom and Blaine because this is guaranteed to blow up in his face, but he can't. Kurt's feet know where to take him and he's powerless to stop.

Karofsky is leaning drunkenly against the lockers when Kurt opens the locker room door. The smell of sweat, man and cheap booze assaults his nostrils and he wrinkles his nose unconsciously. "You smell like a liquor store," Kurt remarks, stepping inside and letting the door close with a bang.

"Well we can't all be walking, talking cologne ads, Hummel," Karofsky slurs, taking another sip from his flask.

"As amused as I am by you living up to the jock at prom stereotype, I think you should dispose of that filthy thing before it gets you into trouble," Kurt states, gesturing at the flask.

"Ah come on," Karofsky snorts, "trouble's practically my middle name."

"Astonishingly witty and well as handsome," Kurt says, "how is it possible you're single?"

"Fuck you," Karofsky replies.

Kurt raises a slender, challenging brow. "Don't act like you wouldn't," Kurt says tartly.

Karofsky's thunderous glare should be making Kurt back down, but instead he takes a step forward, away from the door, his blood racing in his veins. "Except that's your thing, isn't it?" Kurt asks, enunciating every word. "Acting like you wouldn't?"

"Oh please, Hummel, I'm so out my nana is setting me up with guys," Karofsky states flatly.

"Honestly?" Kurt asks, shocked but not sure if Karofsky is serious or not.

"Nope," he says, belching loudly, "but at least she didn't disown me like my dad did."

Kurt doesn't know what to say, so he settles for sorry.

Karofsky shrugs. "Nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault I'm a homo and my dad hates me. It's just life. Least he didn't shoot my ass."

"Would he really do that?" Kurt asks, taking another tentative step toward Karofsky.

"Dunno," Karofsky slurs. "Maybe. Threw me out, though. Told me not to let the door hit my fairy ass on my way too."

"Where are you living now?" Kurt asks, leaning next to Karofsky against the bank of lockers.

"With my aunt in her trailer. She and my nan are the only ones who will still talk to me. Aunt Fae's pretty cool with it even," Karofsky admits. "It's weird."

"How did it happen, if you don't mind me asking?" Kurt asks, fiddling with one of his cufflinks.

"Azimio," Karofsky says bitterly. "He ratted me out to my old man. When my dad started laying into me about it, I didn't deny it."

There's so much pain in Karofsky's...in Dave's...voice that Kurt reaches out, but stops himself at the last moment. "That must have been awful," he says honestly.

"It's not the worst I've ever felt," Dave says, shrugging sadly. "You should go."

"What?" Kurt asks, as the other boy pushes away from the locker.

"Leave," he replies simply as he struggles with the combination lock.

Kurt stares at the boy in front of him as if he's grown a second head. Dave finally pops the lock and stuffs the flask inside his locker before he slams the door and snaps the lock shut again. "Why are you still here? Don't you have to go get crowned Prom Queen or something?" Dave asks, glaring at Kurt.

"You'll have to forgive me, but I was under the impression you and I were having our very first civilized conversation," Kurt says, stepping away from the lockers and placing his hands on his hips.

"You talked, I talked, now we're done and you need to go," Dave replies.

"I'm not just going to leave you here, drinking yourself into a stupor in a foolishly clichéd attempt to overcome whatever emotional issues you're denying you have," Kurt sputters indignantly.

"Leave!" Dave roars.

"I am not leaving you here alone. You might do something drunk and stupid and I refuse to deal with that kind of guilt," Kurt states, ignoring the way his heart trips up as he meet's Dave's furious stare with his own.

"Get out!" Dave shouts, bringing his hand down on the door of his locker.

"No!" Kurt yells back.

They both start speaking at the same, though neither of them listens to the other.

"What is it with you?"

"You listen to me you half-witted buffoon..."

"Why can't you just leave?"

"If you think for one second that I'm just going to..."

"You need to go!"

"Stand here and let you scream at me..."

"Just go, please go, for God's sake just go!"

"Well it's just not going to..."

Then Dave's hands are on his face, pulling him in and their lips smash together and it's almost exactly like the first time. Kurt can't think or breathe or move and the tips of his fingers throb in time with his heart. A sharp lick of heat rips through Kurt's lower belly as Dave moves his lips and he places his hands on the other boy's chest, not sure what to do with them.

When Dave pulls away, Kurt is struck by the cold and the confusing sense of loss he feels. He curls his fingers, desperate to hold on to the moment, but they grip empty air. He watches as Dave runs his hands through his hair and takes a shuddering breath.

"Why can't you just fucking listen?" Dave asks brokenly.

Kurt takes a deep breath before he steps forward and grabs Dave by his shirt front. He hauls the hockey player close and stares into his molten hazel eyes. There's a familiar kind of fear in them, though Kurt can't exactly recall when he's seen it before, but there's desire in them too. They're captivating and Kurt is almost sorry when he closes his eyes and presses his lips to Dave's.

Dave lets out a helpless moany kind of sigh and Kurt doesn't even notice when his foot pops right off the ground because he's too busy taking advantage of the opportunity to slip his tongue into Dave's mouth that the sigh provides. Dave tastes like cheap vodka and the cherry punch from the dance, a combination that's shockingly erotic in comparison to the sanitized taste of Blaine's vanilla-mint toothpaste. Kurt fists his hands in Dave's hair and tries to memorize the flavour.

Dave gives as good as he gets, griping Kurt's hips firmly and pulling Kurt tight to his chest. Kurt breaks their kiss and uses one hand to pull Dave's head to the side, assaulting his neck with randomly alternating nips and kisses. He elicits a startled curse from Dave when Kurt discovers a particularly sensitive spot just under Dave's ear and it's so incredibly gratifying that Kurt wonders if Dave can feel his skin humming with satisfaction.

Kurt has Dave's shirt half unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder, eager to get at the revealed expanse of skin, when Dave places his hands against Kurt's chest and pushes. Kurt stumbles back, but Dave wraps his hands around Kurt's shoulders to steady him. Kurt's heart twists viciously when their eyes meet and Dave shakes his head. Kurt's fingers tremble when he brushes his fingers across Dave's cheekbone

"Go back to your date, Kurt," Dave says, stepping out of Kurt's reach.

Kurt chokes on the words that all try to come tumbling out in at once as Dave buttons his shirt and tucks it into his pants. When he places his fingers against his throat, Kurt can almost feels the words under his skin. Dave runs a hand over his hopelessly mussed hair and looks back at Kurt as he opens the door. "Enjoy the dance;" Dave says as he steps out.

Kurt is immaculate by the time he walks woodenly back into the dance. Blaine looks torn between exasperation and relief and Kurt can't remember what to do when the other boy wraps his muscular arms around him. "I missed you," Blaine says honestly, his perfectly adorable smile spreading across his face.

The words won't come when Kurt tries to answer. Blaine's smile falls away and he slips his hand into Kurt's, leading them to the floor. Kurt follows and lets Blaine pull him into his arms. "Lie to me," Blaine begs in his ear. "Tell me we're okay."

Kurt rests his head on Blaine's shoulder, unable to answer. Blaine's gasps and his grip on Kurt tightens as they sway to 'Heavy in Your Arms'. "Everything is perfect," Kurt finally says.

"Too bad perfection isn't real," Blaine whispers.


	2. AN part deux

**A/N: Also, I lifted the bit about Dave's nana directly from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's Larry's line. I can't remember who he says it to, Xander probably, but it was too good not to use. Plus it's fitting, since a number of people on ONTD have decided that Dave is just a Larry-rip off. If you have no idea what I'm rambling about, watch the Buffy ep "Phases'. I liked Larry, but I adore Dave (and the very adorable/ridiculously talent Max Adler).**


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